Letters in Fiction


When she woke up, she found herself left out in the cold. She was surrounded by mossy tombstones in an old cemetery in the middle of nowhere. She was seeing such tombstones for the first time in her life. She couldn’t make sense of anything but the most strange thing was she was lying over a tombstone bedded with fresh dark red roses. Plants wildly overgrew all over and she couldn’t remember anything. She was trying to recollect things. How did she come there?

She cleared the scriptures over one of the tombstone at her hand’s reach. She could somehow make out the lifetime of that unknown. Her eyes couldn’t believe what she was reading: 1826 – 1889. An uncomprehending fear ran over her nerves and made her shiver. It was never going to be easy for her to frame the time of her living and the present at somewhat end 18th or beginning of another centuries. How was it ever possible for anyone to wake up like this? Something her mind could retell her was her going to bed on a full moon night in the winter month of Ÿlir. She slowly realised she belonged to the 10th century.

She stood up, looked back at those roses and walked unhurriedly on the trails towards the opening of the cemetery. With a blank mind of what to do next, she kept herself moving. The moment she stepped out of those walls, something strange happened. The roses slowly melted down to a pool of dark red blood and slowly started diminishing into the air.

PS: Ÿlir, is the third winter month followed during the time of Vikings and our present calendar originated in 12th century.

1 thought on “Nowhere”

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